A Mad Tea Party
by candycobwebs
Summary: Alois is having a tea party, and Ciel is the involuntary guest.
1. Quite Contrary

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Notes: **This is my first time posting on ! I thought it might be easier to use than livejournal. Just be warned that I'm new to this format.

**Warnings: **Alois's character deserves its own special warning. Take that as you will. :3

**_- A Mad Tea Party -_**

**I. Quite Contrary **

"Show me your scars," Alois often asked, no less than twice an hour while his playmate was held captive under their agreement.

Each time, Ciel would grind his teeth to keep himself from wrapping his hands around the blonde's throat and squeezing until those devious eyes turned back into their sockets.

"Go to Hell," he growled.

"You always say that," the other boy grinned, "when you know that's not where either of us are going."

In the stillness of the Trancy manor's enormous parlor, the wet _plunk _of four sugar cubes dropped into steaming tea reverberated like a small avalanche. Alois was no student of human character, but he had gathered one important piece of Ciel's psychology thus far: he did not like to talk (save for snide asides) and he was even less likely to do so when it was at someone else's request. Highly uncommon for a nobleman, but then nothing about the Earl Phantomhive was common. He watched the one-eyed child sip at his Earl Grey and stifled an amused chuckle at the contempt that spoiled the raven boy's face. Yes, Alois had no patience for study or schoolwork, but his weekly rendezvous were steadily becoming more like scientific experiments, with Ciel as the test subject. They were little tests, little whispered questions in the dark. _If I bend you, will you break? _

The test subject folded his dainty hands on the dark tablecloth, and the scientist wondered if his bones were made of spun sugar or bronze. _What does your blood smell like—candy or gunmetal? _

"What are you staring at?" He hissed.

"Show me," Alois's smile widened, "and I'll let you leave early."

"No." The coldest of London winters were no match for the ice in his voice.

"What are you so afraid of?" He leaned across the table, folding his legs beneath him like an unmannered schoolboy. "Do you not like people to see you without all your clothes on?"

Oh, he'd hit on something there. A fire blazed behind his study's cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous," he almost (_almost_) stammered.

Alois outright laughed. "I don't care, Ciel, I don't. I won't judge your body. Look, look, I'll show you mine!" White fingers popped open pearly buttons.

"Stop it!"

_He got so huffy when things weren't going his way_, Alois noted. The world didn't turn unless Earl Phantomhive demanded it to, and here was a frivolous brat who laughed at his commands.

"No?" His hands paused, having only undone the top three buttons of his blouse. In one semi-fluid movement he perched himself on the table, poised like a little jungle cat with a Cheshire smile. Ciel looked less like terrified prey and more like an irritated audience. "Maybe you want to finish the rest."

He tumbled across the table, forsaking irreplaceable china and delicate silk, and fell, not ungracefully, into Ciel's lap, giggling and snarling in play. _Ciel is Little Red Riding Hood_, he thought, forcing the smaller boy against the armchair's velvet back, _and I am the Wolf! _It was a game Alois sometimes forced upon his servants when one too many pieces of cake awoke a childish and rambunctious pixie inside of him.

None of them ever fought back the way Ciel did.

"Get off!" Little nails scratched at his bare throat and face, aiming for his eyes. When that proved futile he reached for his hair, yanking blonde tufts while beating elbows against his shoulders and twisting beneath the taller boy's frame. Alois felt a knobby knee jam hard against his lower back and grabbed the offendant's dark locks in turn.

They fought this way for several minutes, Little Red trapped below the Wolf but biting, scratching, and tearing viciously at whatever scrap of skin he could claim. After those few minutes, they'd worn each other down to heaving scraps. Alois, in truth, still had enough fight left in him, but Ciel's ugly-sounding gasps for breath had signaled him to stop.

"Ciel?" He leaned back, puzzled by the boy's ragged panting. "Ciel, are you okay?" Now he was coughing, or hacking, by the sound of it, and his cheeks were all purple and it looked like he was drowning and oh no what if he'd really hurt him?

"Ciel, I'm sorry! What's wrong? Should I get someone?" He looked frantically back and forth while his playmate made terrible, choking, verge-of-death sounds. "Ciel! Did you say something?"

"I'm fine!" He forced out a shout with one last gulp of breath. "Get… away from… me!"

Oh good! He was all better—like nothing bad had ever happened. A cloudless smile reappeared on Alois's twisted face. "We're playing. I'm the wolf and you're the maiden!"

"Like Hell… am I… the maiden," he panted, but his hands were pinned above his head and the wolf was showing him all his pretty white teeth.

He would have fought back, but the asthma ravaging his lungs told him there'd be a bigger price to pay if he struggled (however, if Alois overstepped his boundaries he _would_ get his retribution, illness be damned).

"I can see your scars," he giggled, pointing at the red lines etched in his neck. "Right here… and here…"

"You put those there, idiot." He gasped louder than he'd meant to, his breath still shaken. Alois chose to ignore it.

"Why don't you want me to see? You think I don't know?" He stuck out his branded tongue and traced the black string of his eye patch. "… Unclean."

"Shut up." Ciel almost had his breath back now.

"We have to pretend, I know. We have to pretend for everyone. But you don't have to pretend here." He licked the shell of his ear, just like he had before. For some reason the strangeness of the act fascinated him.

"I never _pretend, _you vile brat." He would grind his teeth to dust by the time Alois had finished with him. The evil faun was letting his lips dance lightly against his throat, playing as though to kiss him but never coming quite close enough. "How much longer?"

"An hour." His tongue touched his neck experimentally, seething like fire and ice against warm skin.

"You didn't check," The test subject growled.

"Forever." He licked his neck again, pretending that this time he was a curious kitten and trying out a _meow _just because he knew it would annoy Ciel to itty-bitty pieces. "Forever and ever mine and always! Pretty Little Red and Goldilocks. We'll kill all the wolves and bears. Won't that be fun?"

"The clock says fifteen minutes Alois. Fifteen minutes so you'd better—"

"Why do you always want to go?" He whimpered. "Always want to leave me alone here. I have no one to play with. Claude is terrible at games. I would get you anything you want, I have lots of money too you know…"

It was an act Ciel was always forced to endure—the final scene of their Tuesday play dates. Alois was always left in a puddle on the floor, promising so many wonderful things if he just stayed for one more hour, or one more day, or one more lifetime.

"I would rather give Sebastian my soul _now_ than spend another minute with you," he swore.

"You're so mean to me!" Fake tears shimmered in poisonous eyes. "You said I have fifteen minutes left!"

"And you do, so get it over with!" Patience was a virtue, and Ciel had no time for those.

Like a rekindled flame, Alois's smile burned again. As his servants knew well, their master's emotions could be lit as quickly as they could be extinguished.

"You're trying to hide from me." Now the smile was insidious: a pretty bow atop a horrid wreckage. "We're not playing hide and seek today." Small hands perused his coat. "I want to touch you, Ciel."

"I will kill you," Ciel tried to calmly state. "You swore, and if you break the agreement, I will—"

"Blah blah blah I know. I swore I wouldn't do a bunch of stuff and you'll kill me if I do. You've said it a thousand times." He tapped coat buttons. "Maybe if you were nicer to me I wouldn't think about what I want to do to you so much."

"Twelve minutes left, Alois, and if you don't shut up…"

"I can say what I want! That's not breaking the agreement. I can say whatever I want," he protested.

No matter how hard Ciel rolled his eyes, he knew he was right.

"Well I don't have to listen," his trapped audience retorted.

"Well I don't give a damn," Alois sang.

"Fine. Say what you like. You have eleven minutes left. But if your tongue touches me again I'll rip it off. By the way, that made our next meeting an hour shorter."

"But—"

"Our agreement."

"Fine." There was mutual pouting. Disappointment soon faded when Alois remembered his current position; Ciel glared at the corridor, counting down the seconds in his mind.

"Claude says I make you uncomfortable. Squirmy," He whispered in his play thing's ear. "He says it makes you not want to play with me but I don't care. I like it when you squirm, Ciel. You look so precious when you're pissed at me."

Ciel was looking rather "precious" as the seconds chipped off in his thoughts. _22… 23…_

"I can tell when you're uncomfortable. Your cheeks turn all red, like strawberries, and your face gets all twisty. I think you even get scared…"

"_Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…"_

"I think you do! You get scared. You act like you're so much bigger than me but I could take you if I wanted to, just like they did." He leaned back a little to see his test subject's red face and chuckled like they'd just shared an inside joke.

"I want to touch you, Ciel," he said again, though with less hesitance. "I want to make you feel so good."

Palms and fingers threatened his clothing, hovering over the fabric like the hands of a magician waiting to reveal his surprise. _Pull up the curtain and look! He's disappeared!_

"Am I making you uncomfortable? I'm not touching you." He waved his hands in the air as evidence. "Well, I'm still in your chair, but this is playing so it's not against our agreement, is it?"

_Our agreement, _he said, as though Ciel could do little more than assure that he wouldn't be brutalized or murdered in their lopsided contract. "No," He conceded.

"Someday," the wolf smiled wider, "You'll want me to touch you. And it won't be like when they touched you,"—a wince from his subject—"It will be so nice. So nice, Ciel. Ciel, please!" He gave a fake cry, biting his lower lip in a visage of agony and want.

Ciel didn't know how much longer he could withstand vomiting.

"I can't stand being this close to you!" With the melodramatic flair of an amateur Shakespearean actor, Alois flung himself against the table, arching his back and striking a variety of poses because frankly it was a lot of fun rolling around in inappropriate places. "It makes me hurt. You're so terrible Ciel, just terrible! Why are you doing this to me?"

The cobwebs in the upper right-hand corner of the ceiling were not quite distracting enough for Ciel to completely ignore the attention-seeking pretty boy dancing in front of him like something out of a lewd penny dreadful. Giggling when he noticed his captive viewer's evasive stare, the actor drew himself up to sit on pink tinged knees, tablecloth crinkling against his boots.

"Do you hate it when I'm close to you, Ciel? Do you hate it when I talk about touching you?" He cocked his head. "Tell me what you hate! Tell me what makes you _so_ mad… You always look mad, anyway."

Nothing but a heavily furrowed brow in response.

"Claude is outside the door, you know," he whispered excitedly. "He can hear us. Wonder what he'd think if he started hearing strange noises. Wonder if he'd come inside to check."

One eyebrow was now curiously raised, though the eye beneath still glared intently at the dusty webs.

"Oh, Ciel!" Alois turned toward the door and moaned. "More, more!" He crooned with a jovial smile, eyes closed in faux ecstasy, hands caressing his face and neck and travelling beneath his slightly opened shirt.

"Five minutes left," his victim more than growled.

It was so easy to ignore time, to tip his head back and whimper, to roll his hips, to glare down with lying, lustful looks and cry "Ciel!" until he knew he'd driven him to the edge. The only issue lay in his darting eye.

"Oh!" he gasped. "Look at me, Ciel."

His subject refused to comply.

"Look at me!" he shouted, teeth bared.

"Look at how you make me feel," he said once he knew he had his full attention, as that bluest eye was no longer boring a hole into the ceiling.

Eyes shut and lips perked, he gave a lascivious but convincing mewl, then glanced to see his object's reply with a look of temptation so practiced he could have successfully proffered Eve the forbidden fruit.

"What?" the Earl snapped. "What do you want me to say? I don't care to play your stupid games, Alois. You don't impress me."

"Impress you?" Alois scoffed. "I don't want to impress you, Ciel. I want to fuck you."

_If I bend you…_

"You don't even know what you're saying." The angrier Ciel got, the more he seemed like a snarling little pup rearing to attack a teasing kitty.

"Do too!" his torturer exclaimed before returning to his moaning routine, now encouraged by escalating rage. "This is your fault, you know. If you'd just let me touch you a little then maybe I wouldn't think about, about throwing you against the table and, and…"

It was now rather obvious that the foolish child had no idea what he was talking about, so he settled for making kittenish squeals and groans while his witness looked on in disgust. Oh, he was making him _so_ mad. His cheeks were getting red, bright red, like two plump, bleeding strawberries. But there was, unbeknownst to the raucous actor, a hint of complacency in his disapproving gleam.

"Where did you learn to put on a show like this, Alois?" said Ciel. "You make a very convincing whore."

Something flashed in those two periwinkle eyes, but it left in a rush. Alois bit his wrist and moaned a bit louder, unsure if his butler could hear him from the hallway.

"You're no better than a twopence tramp. You're beneath me," Ciel snipped with an expecting leer.

"Shut up!" The prostrate actor snapped out of character.

"You disgust me, Alois Trancy. You're a whiny little slut. I don't care if we both have contracts…" he seethed, "we are nothing alike."

An airborne teacup smashed against the wall, shattering into a flurry of sharp, porcelain fragments. Its destroyer panted on the table.

"Bastard!" he shrieked. "You, you shut up!"

"You're a fraud. You're a stupid child and I have no use for you."

Upon Ciel's dark head an invisible crown rested once more. Small limbs and pale, clawed hands adorned the arms of his thrown. Before him, the jester contorted and wailed.

"Stop talking!" Alois's fingers searched for something else to throw, but the remainder of his tea set was already lying broken on the rug.

"Stop pretending, Trancy. Stop pretending that I can't see exactly what you are. You can pretend to everyone else but you can't pretend to me."

Alois's tears were real this time. Ciel could tell by the way they fell sloppily down his face and descended past his shuddering mouth. Reality was an unsightly beast, but he preferred this imperfect, fractured boy to the sickly sweet lie that he usually portrayed.

"No!" Alois wrung the tablecloth the same way he wished at that moment he could wring the other boy's neck, choking him until he took it back. _Unsay it! _"Shut up, Ciel! Shut your fucking mouth!"

"Such disgusting language for a member of society. More evidence that you will never be my equal," he spoke with the precision of a striking snake.

Blood coursing with equal parts venom and desperation, the Earl Trancy sprang from the tea table and shoved it away like an unwanted toy, though the heavy wood only budged a few inches. He placed his shaking hands on the arms of the lordly boy's chair and bent over him until his blonde fringe touched the other's blue.

"If you don't shut your mouth right now, Ciel, if you don't shut it I'll—"

"You'll what? You can't touch me. You'll never be able to touch me," he glared fiercely back. "You'll never be able to look me in the eye because I am better than you, Alois. You are weak, and you are _nothing_."

"Shut up!" Big, wet, real tears streaked down his cheeks; his voice trembled with sobs. "You can't… say that… to me!"

He fell to his knees and pressed his forehead against the revolted boy's calves—wrapped his arms around his little legs as though he were clinging for his life, as though the parlor was the sea and Ciel was all that was left of his boat.

"It's… not t-true, Ciel! I… I'm j-just like you, a-and you're just like me…"

Ciel winced when he felt cold tears trickle down his leg.

"Our time is up. Get off," he demanded in a chipped tone.

"No, wait! That's not fair!" Alois wiped his wet lashes with the back of his hand.

"Let go of me." The glare should have been warning enough, but Alois was just as stubborn.

"No! You can yell at me all you want, Ciel, but one day I'll have you and you won't get to say mean things to me and we'll see who's beneath who then!" His expression of despair was now wholly replaced with one of defiant wrath.

Ciel folded his arms and huffed.

"Sebastian!" he summoned.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Why haven't you gotten me yet?" he asked impatiently.

"You seemed preoccupied, master. I was simply waiting for your call," the demon smiled (or smirked).

"Well, I'd like to leave now, if you wouldn't mind doing your job and escorting me out," he testily requested.

Alois was deaf to their conversation, having pressed his entire self against Ciel's thin legs in a posture of obstinate refusal to budge an inch. _He can't leave, _he thought, _because I won't let go. _

"Get off, Trancy!" Ciel tried to escape the boy's bear trap arms. "Sebastian, get him off!"

"Yes, my lord."

The clinging blonde felt gloved hands gently snatch his collar and attempt to pull him away. Alois erupted in a scream.

"Claude!" he shrilled as though Sebastian had put a gun to his back rather than a hand. "Claude, help me!"

As though called by a spell, his bespectacled butler seemingly manifested by his side. Yellow eyes turned bitter when he saw his rival's hand clinched around his master's collar.

"May I ask why you have laid your hands upon my master?"

Sebastian let go of the boy's shirt and turned to the butler with upturned palms and an apologetic grin. "I was merely following my master's request that he be permitted to leave, seeing as their meeting has surpassed their standard time limit."

"I don't want it!" the sniffling child barked his most common phrase. "Make him stay, Claude! I order you!"

"Get him off, Sebastian!" Ciel looked thoroughly irritated and one step away from furious.

Sebastian offered Claude a look that said _"_your turn", and stood watchfully behind his master like a chess player who was interested to observe, and perhaps mock, his opponent's move. Death grip continued, with the victim staring daggers at the pale, shaking vines that ensnared him with adamant passion and the yellow head that rested against his legs. The demon nodded his head, then knelt beside the fickle boy who refused to let go of what happened to be the one toy in the entire store that wasn't currently for sale.

"Master," he murmured, placing a hand gently upon his shoulder. "It is their time to leave."

"No!" Alois jerked away, but his butler's hand remained.

The smooth faced demon, just as frighteningly perfect as the monster that currently towered over him, whispered low and close into his young master's ear, moving cautiously to place his other hand on his waist as he spoke what must have been either extremely comforting words or a powerful incantation, as the boy finally released his grip and fastened himself instead to his butler's front, with arms now wrapped around a neck and legs around his middle.

"My master thanks you for your presence. You are permitted to leave at your own discretion." With a regal half-bow, he turned a full semi-circle and made for the grand staircase.

It would be highly uncouth of Alois, considering the image he had made for himself, were he to deny Ciel of a bitter, maniacal look over his carrier's shoulder. And it simply wouldn't do if Ciel neglected to offer a contemptuous huff in reply.

He ordered Sebastian to slam the door behind them.

Alois was singing.

"_Mary, Mary, quite contrary…_"

Two days until Ciel was at his doorstep again.

"_How does your garden grow?"_

Dressed in his starry night blue coat with the silver buttons, silver buttons, silver—

"—_bells and cockle shells."_

Ready to play their hide-and-seek games. Run-and-catch, run-and-catch, run-and catch.

"_And pretty maids all in a row!"_

Alois dragged his nails down his butler's neck.

"This time we'll have cake! _Lots _of cake!"


	2. Oranges and Lemons

**Author's Notes: **The order of this chapter is a little confusing, but I meant for it to be anachronistic. In order I guess it would be segment 2, 1, 5, 4, 3, 6, 7. This fic is turning out to be something entirely different than I had in mind to begin with but oh well. I suppose you could call it an AU since it disregards a lot of the anime. The title and lyrics quoted between the segments are from an English nursery rhyme.

**Warnings:** Alois is Alois. Best warning ever.

_**- Oranges and Lemons -**_

**x**

_Oranges and lemons,_

_Say the bells of St. Clement's_

**x**

"Here, there, everywhere!" Alois danced down the corridor and sang.

He was here, he was there, he was everywhere. He was a pink and white flash darting down the stairway, leaving a stream of bathwater in his wake.

Here, there, everywhere, always, all at once.

"Bet you can't catch me, Claude!" he laughed.

It was a foolish bet, but his levelheaded butler was taking his time, perhaps having decided that it was best to let the frenzy and excitement run its course before he inevitably fell prey to exhaustion. Predictability was one of the few graces his trying master provided.

Alois had left his negligent chaser in the dust. He'd found the kitchen, and, sitting prettily on the counter, the cake.

It was a gorgeous treat. Four tiers, he'd ordered, and no less—but more was always nice, so Claude had added a fifth tier for the top because he knew that a command was never fulfilled unless it came with a little extra. The towering treat was frosted white and dotted with bright and juicy berries that rested upon little clouds of vanilla. Was it vanilla? Alois clambered atop the counter to inspect closer. A breeze wafted in from the open window. He shuddered and somewhat regret having not grabbed a towel or a robe during his daring escape from the bath, but he'd simply had only one thought at the time: _cake_! Cake and sweets and parties and everything he wanted, everything that belonged to him. _Mine, mine, mine!_ He stuck out a finger and, giggling, swiped a small trail of white off the top and popped the sugarcoated finger in his mouth. _Yum. _

This cake was to be the grand centerpiece of his latest tea party. Ciel would look at it with disgust and disdain, just as he looked upon everything, during their forced soiree. He wondered how red he could make his face turn this time. They'd have lots of fun. They'd eat cake. He licked one side completely clean, leaving bare the soft, spongy pastry beneath. How beautiful their life was, so carefree and rich. The world could fall around their shoulders, but let them eat cake.

"Master," Claude's voice seemed to echo from the ceiling, "if I may be so bold, I think it would be best if you allowed me to dress you now. Your guest shall be here shortly."

Alois took another dip in his sugary prize and inspected the butter cream icing on his index finger before popping it in his mouth like an infant who'd just discovered the wonders of sucking his thumb.

"_Mmm_," he cooed. "Who says I have to wear clothes? It's my house."

"I believe that proper decorum dictates…"

"Alright, alright. Spare me your 'proper décor-y… decorate… décor-whatever' lectures, you silly demon," he smiled at his butler admiringly, warmth and pride in his eyes as he recalled their first lessons in 'proper Earl behavior'. "I know a '_proper Earl'_ wouldn't host parties in the nude. Still, imagine Ciel's face! He'd be the best kind of red—angry and embarrassed all at once. That's my favorite look of his!"

"I am sure you will be able to achieve several of those looks tonight even with your wardrobe fully intact, your highness." The demon lowered his head before offering the child arms in which to entangle himself. Sticky, icing-covered hands smudged a once-pristine suit. It appeared a change of clothes as well as another bath would be in order.

"The cake is bloody delicious, Claude. Next time you should make it _really _big. Then I'll get inside of it and, listen to this, I'll jump out of it and scare the piss out of Ciel! Then I'll make him eat it off of me," he cackled. "Won't that be hilarious?"

Alois was full of hilarious ideas. He told Claude several more of his imagined schemes during his second scrubbing. The butler was too concerned with ridding of the frosting that dirtied his fingernails to listen entirely, but to completely ignore his master would be impossible. No one ignored Alois Trancy.

**x**

_You owe me five farthings,_

_Say the bells of St. Martin's_

**x**

In the black and treacherous attic there sat a piano that, for years, had not been touched by any creature save mice and spiders. It was a grand piano, obviously having at one time been very elegant, with its original shiny blackness hidden behind a forest of dust and cobwebs. The once ivory keys were now brown and littered with excrement. A lazy spider made its home between the crumbling legs.

The boy found it during a spell of boredom that led him to explore the manor's shadowy places, a candelabrum in his hand and his trusty demon nearby as protection from the darkness he feared.

"Claude, look at this!"

His butler arrived with a lit candlestick in his hand and cast its glow upon the withered instrument. The piano seemed to shrink from the light like a nocturnal animal.

Alois carefully sat upon the dirty bench and let his hands trail over the keys. He pressed a few cautiously, curiously, having never touched a piano before. It made an awful, distorted sound. The love song of ghosts and ghouls.

"I'm afraid it is broken, master. We could purchase a new piano, if you desire one."

"I like this one," said Alois. "You can make it pretty again. I want to put it in the parlor."

"Indeed, I can restore its physical beauty. But as an instrument it is quite unusable," his butler explained. "It will never sound as it once did."

"I don't care. I like this one and I want it in the parlor. That is a command."

"Yes, your highness."

Sometimes, he played upon the beautiful piano. He filled the manor with the echoes of madness and decay. He smiled.

**x**

_When will you pay me?_

_Say the bells of Old Bailey_

**x**

Ten minutes before Ciel Phantomhive had arrived, cane in hand and disgruntled countenance in place, everything had been perfect: the chandelier was lit, the table set, the slightly-ravaged cake repaired. Everything sparkled. Everything danced. Everything was soon-to-be and anxious waiting as Alois played with the lace curtains and stared expectantly out the spotless window.

Now, with Ciel in his reserved seat at one end of the table and Alois at the other, everything was suddenly very wrong.

"No!" Alois pounded his fists upon the table. "This isn't what I wanted to do today _at all!"_

"That's not my problem," the opposite boy scoffed. "Go scream at your damned butler and spare me the sound of your voice."

"Oh, sod off!" He spat back.

They'd glared at one another from the moment their meeting had begun, Ciel's dark blue irises piercing into an azure as light and translucent as the boy who possessed them. _Those eyes, those stupid eyes,_ Ciel thought. He could see right through them, right through to the idiotic creature beneath the pretty, aristocratic shell. It was difficult to believe that such a feather-light moron could have a soul worth feasting upon. Nothing rested in those flippant, worthless eyes.

Alois thought about taking the sugar spoon and scooping out both Ciel's eyes. Especially the one beneath his patch. He'd keep them in a jar on the mantle. In the morning they'd catch the sunlight and sparkle like jewels. Ciel's pretty dead eyes would be all his and no one else's; such a beautiful blue, deep like the ocean and clear like the sky. Dark like his soul.

"Are you just going to glare at me all night?" Ciel broke their stand off. "Can you honestly not come up with a better way to waste my time?"

His host blew a gust of air, ruffling his yellow hair, and gave an exasperated sigh. The table shook as he banged an elbow rudely down and propped his cheek in his hand. "I'm bored. You're _boring_ me, Ciel."

"It's not my job to entertain you, you prat. It is _your_ duty to provide entertainment. That's how hosting works." He stirred another sugar cube into his tea. "Have your butler explain it to you, like he does everything."

"Claude doesn't enter this room unless I ask him to and you know why I don't." His head fell upon folded arms. "This time belongs to us and no one else. Not even Claude. And definitely not your stupid dog butler."

"Your insults have become rather dull, Alois. Perhaps you should invest in a thesaurus and improve your English a bit." Ciel took a sip of his tea and winced. Far too much sugar. He hadn't been paying attention. If Sebastian had been there to make it for him…

"And perhaps you should learn how to make your own cup of tea without having your little butler do it for you," Alois laughed raucously, banging his hands upon the table yet again. "You added too much sugar, didn't you? And you call _me _the fool!"

"I have far too many important issues on my mind to fret over how to sweeten tea!" he rebuked. "That is why I have a butler. Not so I can lay around and lick frosting off my fingers like a mindless brat."

Alois removed an icing-covered finger he'd been sucking on from his frowning mouth. "I'm so damn tired of hearing you talk about how you're so much better than me. You just go on and on…"

"_I _just go 'on and on'?" Ciel scoffed. "If I could I would have Sebastian sew your mouth shut, Trancy. You don't seem to know the definition of silence."

"What? You couldn't do something as simple as sew without his help either?" he smirked as he licked the top off of a miniature rose-shaped cupcake.

Red was beginning to blossom in his guest's apple cheeks. Their game was starting again.

"Sewing is work for women and servants. Do you think I have time for such nonsense?"

It was quite nice, Alois thought, the way Ciel's eyebrows sloped down when he was getting angry. The way his lips would purse and his whole being would pulse against the throes of a boy whose actions and words he could not control. It was almost unfair how lovely he looked when he was being cross. But Alois had seen it all before. He wanted a new expression now.

"I'm tired of arguing," he yawned, lifting his arms above his head and stretching like he'd just woken up. "It's no fun right now. I want to play a game."

"Of course you do. _Imbecile,"_ Ciel mumbled.

"But I'm tired of games too," he sighed. "I am simply so… sleepy. Aren't you tired, Ciel?"

"I'm exhausted." In a more mental than physical sense, as his upturned lip indicated.

Alois grinned, looking up through his eyelashes with a practiced wanton gaze. "Well then, maybe we ought to go to bed, hmm?"

"No."

"We don't actually have to sleep, you know. We can do other things," he winked.

The ceiling was a far less infuriating sight for Ciel. He trained his eyes upon the chandelier. It was pathetic compared to the one in _his _parlor. What material was that, brass? It certainly wasn't gold. Trancy probably couldn't tell the difference. Speaking of the fool, he certainly was being suspiciously quiet.

Something beneath the table brushed against his leg. Something that giggled.

"You are beyond predictable." He gave a tiresome groan.

Snickering wickedly, the crouching boy walked his fingers up the other's calf.

"_The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout…"_

At the edge of Ciel's shorts, he stopped. But then those creeping fingers began to slowly scamper up…

"Stop it!" Ciel batted away his lurking hands.

"Come under here, Ciel!" said Alois, tugging on his pants. "It's really cool. Come on!"

"I will _not_ get on my hands and knees and crawl beneath the table like an idiot," he replied with crossed arms.

Alois lay on his back and stared at the side of the table that was normally hidden from view. It was like discovering a new sky. He wished he had a knife so he could carve in some stars.

"Fine then," he called. "I will _not _tell you what I know about the newest case you've been assigned. Good luck finding out on your own, Sherlock!"

Silence, a sigh, and a few moments later a familiar figure accompanied him beneath the tabletop sky, though not without another loud huff. Alois smiled, adoring the warm sensation of a nearby presence.

"What information do you have?"

"_Ah ah ah_, our time isn't over yet," he scolded. "You'll find out before you leave. Until then, no talking about your silly underworld problems."

"_Silly?"_

"Oh!" Alois suddenly remembered—his pocket knife, of course! It was stashed beneath his coat, like always. He flicked it open, then studied his canvas with an artist's scrutiny.

Wood dust and shavings fell in his eyes and hair as he carefully chiseled two little crooked stars into an otherwise barren heaven.

"Do you want to carve something?" Alois turned and asked in an uncharacteristically generous tone.

"No… thank you." This entire situation was too odd for the well-bred noble boy's liking. Whoever heard of carving in your own furniture? Even writing love notes in tree bark always seemed frivolous and unrefined to him.

"I'll carve it for you, then."

Ciel stared in befuddlement as the other boy chipped into the surface of the table. When he'd finished, the words _Alois _and _Ciel_ were chiseled in the wood forever, with a name beneath each star.

"We're like the stars, see? There's no one else like us in the whole sky."

That was true. In the entire world, perhaps the entire universe, there were only two boys with two contracts, two butlers, two damned souls. Whether they were as similar as the twin sparsiles remained up to their own estimation.

**x**

_When I grow rich,_

_Say the bells of Shoreditch._

**x**

"Stupid, incessant brat," Ciel muttered as his butler straightened the lapels of his coat. "I hardly think I need to look my best for _him, _Sebastian."

Collar and coat were straightened nonetheless.

"My lord always complains before his dates—"

Ciel interrupted with a hiss. "They are _not _dates."

"Pardon me," Sebastian corrected. "_Meetings._ And yet I cannot help but notice an improvement in master's mood when he returns."

"The only happiness I gain from my meetings with Trancy is entirely due to his unfortunate knowledge of dark events and the willingness with which he imparts his information, for whatever reason. I suppose lackadaisical childishness," the Earl pondered. "Were you _actually_ suggesting there were more personal reasons for my improved mood?"

Sebastian opened the door to the carriage and offered his master a hand, taking his cane as the small boy hoisted himself into the cabin.

"I make no presumptions as to my master's opinions or emotions," his butler said once their ride began. "I was simply stating an observation."

The bumpy carriage ride jostled the blue haired boy's tiny frame, making his dangling legs thump against the seat. His demon sat immutable, not a hair out of place. There were times when Ciel found his perfect servant quite infuriating, particularly in moments when his superiority, his exasperating inability to _not _be impeccable, was the most noticeable. The Earl did not know whether he should feel proud or inferior during those moments of unnerving precision.

"Your _observation_ had distasteful connotations," he said pointedly. "These meetings are purely business. Trancy tells me what he knows, and in six years I cut out his heart and our transaction is over."

"And what will you do with his heart once you've cut it out?"

The carriage shook violently as it bounded over a bump in the troublesome road, forcing the human to grasp his seat for balance but barely moving the rigid creature sitting opposite.

"You're feeling rather witty today, I suppose," Ciel noted once the brief quake had ended.

Surprisingly, his butler did not smirk.

**x**

_When will that be?_

_Say the bells of Stepney._

**x**

When Claude handed him the envelope, Alois gleefully cradled it in his arms like a baby doll and stroked it with the tips of his nails as though he meant to rip it open and feast upon its insides.

"Wonderful, Claude! Ciel will get on his hands and knees for this, I just know it," he grinned.

His servant replied with a bow; unsaid words lingered in his features.

"I'm going to make him _beg_ this time, really! I keep trying to come up with new things to make him do. It's hard because if I'm too mean I know he won't come back. Pompous moron," he scoffed as he strolled absentmindedly about the room, holding the document against his chest. "'He may be the Queen's Dog but he's still a noble bird at heart.' That's what you said before. I remember. Did you think I forgot? Is that why you look like you're bursting to say something, Claude? I can tell when you're displeased."

"I thought you were due another reminder," his butler subtly replied, "that your time with Lord Phantomhive is not without limits."

Alois laughed and tossed the package upon the closest table. "To Hell with limits. That's what you're for. Defeating limits. Destroying them. Killing them all!"

"There is only so much even I can accomplish when our opponent is so similarly matched," he warned, turning grim.

"You'll get me what I want," Alois sang as he sashayed toward the stairs, "or you won't get what you want. Right? Carry me up, Claude."

"Yes, your highness."

**x**

_I do not know, _

_Says the great bell of Bow._

**x**

How it came that owls received the reputation for being wise was quite unclear. Spiders had all the advantages when it came to wisdom. They lurked in the highest corners and the lowest, hidden beneath bed frames and tables and window sills, making their homes in the most sacred of places: your bedroom, perhaps, or under an old piano. Any space could be claimed, made theirs with a whisper thin casing of crystal webs. From where they dwelled, nothing escaped their many, many eyes. They saw all, and they laid thousands of eggs, and when they hatched they passed their wisdom on to their children so that even if you killed them, squashed them, as common practice demanded that you do to such vermin, their knowledge would pass on. If you truly wanted to know something—something secret and dark—you would ask a spider.

"The string of murders on Fleet Street. What do you know about them?" Ciel asked, hands clenched around his teacup.

"Hmmm, what do you _want_ to know about them?" Alois smiled.

The last few minutes were always the longest. Alois stretched their time as long as Ciel would allow, pulling him along by a string of hints, of _hmms_ and _maybes_, slowly ensnaring him in a cocoon of anticipation before he finally relented. Each time the cocoon became thicker, with Alois becoming more daring and Ciel unwittingly more willing to be wrapped in his lures. He only realized his entangled after their time was through, and he quickly shimmied out of the webs before the spider came too close to the fly.

_For who goes up your winding stair can never come down again._

"I've followed every lead," Ciel continued. "Nothing. No traces. Hardly any evidence. It's maddening." His blue eye became piercing. "I know that you know something."

Alois folded his hands upon the table. "Well of course I know something. When have I ever known nothing?"

Ciel mumbled expletives under his breath. Naturally, the spoiled boy would be hesitant to give up his information easily on a case like this. He wished Sebastian would let him pick up a pipe once in a while; smoking would probably make this a bit more bearable. At least it would keep his mind off of the annoying tune Alois was blithely humming.

"Hmmm, what would you do to find out?" He cocked his head to the side.

"I've survived through an entire evening with you, isn't that enough?" Ciel sounded harsher than he'd meant to. Negotiations were not his strong suit, not with someone as twisted and coarse as Trancy.

"Don't be fresh!" he chastised teasingly. "I'll tell you what you want to hear, _Inspector_ Phantomhive."

"For what?" There was always a final price. He could sit with Alois all day, through all of his brainless torment, but he'd always have one last hoop to jump through before he received his prize.

"Come here," he patted the sliver of space on his chair, "and I'll whisper it to you. We don't want anyone else to hear. It's very, very top secret."

"That's stupid."

"You're stupid," Alois jeered. "Now come sit next to me or I won't tell you anything at all."

Red faced, mouth held shut in a tight line to keep uncivilized words from escaping his lips, Ciel walked over toward Alois's chair, keeping his head down and his eyes glued to the rug. He squeezed into what little room he was allotted on the seat until they were crammed together like two dolls on a bookshelf—Ciel a bitter, porcelain china and Alois a lithe velveteen. The velveteen doll draped his arms around the stiff porcelain figure. He combed his fingers through soft, rich hair. He followed the line of his jaw and lifted his chin, forcing him to look into a pair of playful, deadly eyes. Then he leaned down and, quicker than lightning striking a branch, kissed him merrily on the nose.

Ciel darted back like an agitated snake. "Stop that!" he spat, his face more burgundy than ever.

"I want another kiss. Like last time," he pouted. "I should make Claude put more of that stuff in your drink again. You were so much nicer. You didn't fight when I held you, and you fell asleep in my arms."

Ciel looked thoroughly disgusted. "You're lucky Sebastian didn't kill you both after that. I wouldn't have come back if it weren't for this damned unsolvable case, but believe me when I say that you are on ice so thin you're practically walking on water at this point."

"I know when I've gone too far, Ciel," Alois fussed. "I didn't want to hurt you that night. I just wanted you to hold still for one fucking second! I wanted you to be mine for a few goddamn moments, is that too much to ask?"

"My patience is running thin," the Earl growled. "Tell me what I have to do. What's the magic word this time, you vapid tart?"

Alois looked thoughtful, as though he was weighing all of his options, when in actuality he knew what he wanted all along. "Be mine, for a little bit. Just a few seconds."

The moon-eyed boy sighed, cast his sight upon the window, and muttered: "Fine."

He found himself pulled closer into the older boy's lap, hands fawning over his hair and an arm slipping beneath his knees to cradle him. Was this how he slept that night? He tried not to wonder as Alois pressed kisses against his dusky locks and travelled toward his forehead, giving little pecks as light as falling petals. There was none of the forward urgency that the dastardly child usually depicted in these brief kisses. Ciel was almost alarmed, but then he felt a tongue draw up his cheek, and there was the boy he knew—heathenish, greedy, and controlling. Instinctively, he turned his head to the side, away from his prying mouth.

"Just one kiss, Ciel," he whined, then bent close to his ear to whisper. "I want to taste your candy lips, love."

"Oh God, please shut the Hell up," Ciel begged before his lips were covered by another's.

Alois did not kiss as much as melted against him, nipping and licking at his sealed lips, moaning when he was denied further. "Open your mouth," he urged. "I want to kiss you like they do in France…"

But the boy was not foolish enough to speak, so he forced his lips against the other's harder, hoping that by the time he was through that taut ruby mouth would be puckered and kiss-swollen for hours after. His thumb rubbed circles against his jaw while his other hand slid up the nape of his neck and pulled softly at his hair. Ciel made a noise, either of pleasure or discomfort. Fascinating. He pulled again—harder. Ciel gasped. Alois moved fast, kissing and practically lapping at his opened mouth as his fingers tugged dark strands and stroked his cheek and everything was heat and touch and he almost thought he felt someone grasp his own hair and _Ciel, Ciel, I want you to kiss me back. _And then suddenly he realized that he was.

**x**

_Here comes a candle to light you to bed,_

_And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!_

**x**

"What are we?" the sun-haired boy asked.

"We're enemies," the night-stained boy replied.

"I don't want to die."

"Too bad."

"I'll kill you first."

The boy with one eye laughed.

"You think I won't? I know this is a game."

"This is not a game."

"It's a game. It's a nursery rhyme. _Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head."_

The boy with two mad eyes picked up a knife and stabbed it into the table.

"_Chop, chop, chop, chop! The last man's dead!"_

**x**

_Gay go up and gay go down,_

_To ring the bells of London town._

**x**


End file.
